<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Save the Night by Rikkapikasnikka</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25238605">Save the Night</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rikkapikasnikka/pseuds/Rikkapikasnikka'>Rikkapikasnikka</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>She's Gonna Change My Plans [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Miraculous Ladybug</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anxiety, Endgame Luka Couffaine/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Established Relationship, F/M, Inspired by Music, Kissing, Romantic Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 03:53:46</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,167</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25238605</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rikkapikasnikka/pseuds/Rikkapikasnikka</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Luka figured that bottling up his anxiety was perhaps not for the best.</p><p>For one, Marinette was obviously catching on. She kept asking him that same question, over and over. All while staring into his eyes, holding his hands, and sticking out her lower lip in an adorable, irresistible pout. "Luka, are you alright?"</p><p>Yet he had no answer for her.</p><p>- Part 2 but can be read as a standalone</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Luka Couffaine/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>She's Gonna Change My Plans [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1828366</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>94</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>July 2020 - Rare Pair/Character</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Save the Night</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>So I couldn't get an idea for a sequel out of my head, so I wrote a sequel. It's a lot longer than the other one. Oops. 'Chanson', btw, means 'song'.</p><p>Thank you so much to Sseagully for being my beta this time around. &lt;3 </p><p>Will probably write a part three. We'll see.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Luka figured that bottling up his anxiety was perhaps not for the best.</p><p>For one, Marinette was obviously catching on. She kept asking him that same question, over and over. All while staring into his eyes, holding his hands, and sticking out her lower lip in an adorable, irresistible pout.</p><p>"Luka, are you alright?"</p><p>Yet he had no answer for her. Yes, he was fine. Yes, something was on his mind. No, she had no reason to worry. No, he didn't want to talk about it. Not yet.</p><p>"I'm fine," he would always say. And she would scrutinise his features for further answers. Luka hoped her conclusions were positive.</p><p>For weeks, he had been planning this evening. And while his mind struggled to grasp the finer concepts of time, Luka had known this evening was coming. It had been the only thing on his mind for days now. He would tap his foot, bobbing his toes to some unheard beat; he would fret with his rings, running calluses over the smooth, polished metal; and he would grit his teeth to the point that his jaw ached and his tongue felt crowded in his own mouth. </p><p>Luka was anxious, but he was doing his best to suppress it so Marinette wouldn't think something was wrong. Because nothing was wrong, everything was perfect, and he desperately wanted it to stay that way. He didn't want to screw <em> this </em> up.</p><p>They had gone out for ice cream earlier in the day. Together, they'd confessed their feelings-- or, well, they'd come as close to confessing as they could allow themselves. And now, they were engaged in conversation while walking along the banks of the Seine.</p><p>What more could Luka ask for? </p><p>Perhaps for the butterflies in his stomach to go away.</p><p>He was chewing the inside of his mouth again when she stopped in her tracks, the slowly setting sun arranging the highlights in her hair to shine orange rather than blue.</p><p>"Luka," Marinette said, her voice just above a whine, but her tone serious and sad. "Please, talk to me. What's wrong?"</p><p>"Nothing," he said desperately, bottling up the anxiety to turn all his focus on her. "I'm here with the most extraordinary girl in all of Paris; what could be wrong?"</p><p>"It's like you're hiding something from me," Marinette confessed, picking up his other hand and facing him head-on. Luka looked down at their knuckles and intertwined fingers. He drew air over his teeth, held it in his lungs, and then slowly drew his gaze up. From her petite hands, to her strong arms, to the cute, modest shirt she had worn today that flattered her figure. From her tense shoulders, to the slope of her neck, to the curled frown on her bitten bottom lip. From her button nose, to her dusting of freckles, to finally her concerned, brilliant blue eyes.</p><p>Luka took in all of her all over again, if only to ground his racing thoughts. He exhaled, slow and measured.</p><p>"I am," he said quietly, and he expected her reaction. Her eyes went wide and her shoulders dropped. Fear trembled in her throat, and Marinette clung tighter to his fingers, nails digging into his skin. Before it could all spillover, Luka forced himself to press onward. "I have something to tell you. Yet I'm…"</p><p>He didn't confess that he was scared, that he was worried, that he was thinking that she might decide this gesture was just <em> too much </em> and put a stop to everything between them. To put words to his anxiety was to acknowledge it existed in the first place.</p><p>"I'm not confident like you."</p><p>He leaned over and kissed the top of her hair, letting go of one of her hands to brush his knuckles down her cheek instead. She shifted awkwardly, but she was otherwise still as she watched him and he watched her.</p><p>"You're always confident, Luka." Marinette's gaze shifted across his face, looking for any hint. "I believe in you. But…"</p><p>"But what?"</p><p>"I…"</p><p>She hesitated, and he wondered what was on her mind. Yet she sighed, relented, and smiled sadly as she shrugged her shoulders. His hand dropped from her face. </p><p>"I won't pressure you," she mumbled, looking down at their hands that were still entangled. "Just know that I care about you. A lot."</p><p>And her kindness meant so much to him, though he knew he didn't have the right words to tell her that.</p><p>“I care a lot about you too, Marinette,” Luka whispered back, and he took a steady, leisurely step forward to continue their route along the riverbank. After a split second of hesitation, she followed him. “I don’t think I even understand how much. Not yet.”</p><p>Couples passed them as they walked, their steps measured and in sync while her skirt fluttered in the evening breeze. Her purse swung against her hip, and Luka reached over to tuck a strand of dark hair behind her ear. Marinette smiled and giggled, and his heart stuttered at the sparkle in her eyes.</p><p>Not all of their evening was planned. Some parts, he had stressed over for weeks, but small moments like this - like tracing her freckles with his eyes, running his thumb over her palm, brushing her hair out of her face - could not be planned. And he wouldn’t have wanted to. He felt that he would treasure these little wonders more than any plan he could come up with.</p><p>Their conversation was sweet, lulling, innocent. Luka asked her about her projects, her school work, and her friends; Marinette talked about her outfit, her science class, and Alya. She asked him about his guitar, his courses, and his study group; Luka talked about his new strings, his maths course, and Pierre.</p><p>She gave a harsh wince. “He did <em> not.” </em></p><p>Luka chuckled at the disappointment and disgust on Marinette’s face. “He did. Not only did Pierre <em> throw </em>the uh, poor thing at the tutor, he apparently landed it in the wastebasket.”</p><p>“No!” Marinette cried, her other hand coming up to cling to his sleeve and yank on it. Luka was jerked in her direction, forced to bend to accommodate her strength. He didn’t mind. “Was it alright? The poor hamster!”</p><p>“As far as I know, yeah. It was fine, if a little scared. Pierre got a fierce detention and a write-up. I don’t think he’s allowed to take the class pet home anymore.” Luka carefully guided them around a tree before Marinette ran into it. She was so distraught that she was distracted, and she clung to Luka as he moved them around people and obstacles. Her face settled into a sad, albeit cute, pout. </p><p>“Really? It was okay?” she mumbled, turning pleading eyes up to him. Luka felt his face turn pink, but he nodded. </p><p>“It was. Someone brought it to the vet, I think.”</p><p>“That’s good. Hamsters are fragile.”</p><p>She seemed more calm than rattled now, and they walked in parallel once again. One by one, the street lamps flickered to life, illuminating the path along the Seine, and the couple paused to savour the sight.</p><p>The sky was a deep, dark navy, with a few bright stars barely visible, fighting their way through the light pollution of Paris. People of all kinds, of all backgrounds and styles and classes, passed by and around them, fighting their way through the bustle of life. And they, Luka and Marinette, stood as still and calm as the surface of the water, fighting the urge to rush, to run, to return to where they once were.</p><p>They had made a confession to one another earlier in the day, and they both still felt raw and shaken from the rush of it. Marinette wanted to run, either further down this path or further away from it, she wasn't sure, and Luka wanted to run after her. They wanted to return to when their relationship had been casual touches, slow and careful kisses in exploration, and platonic words of affection. Yet now that the L-word was out, neither knew where to go next.</p><p>And in that moment, staring at the flurry of activity around them but never affected by it; taking in the sounds of the night and the chatter of voices but unable to really hear any of it; feeling the warmth of the air and the chill of the breeze but only truly feeling their fingers curling tighter… </p><p>In that moment, they both decided that this was okay. They didn't have to know where they were going as long as they were together, until they decided they wouldn't be together anymore.</p><p>"One step at a time," Marinette breathed, and Luka hummed. He wondered if the same thoughts running through his head were the ones running through hers. Yet all he did was tug her along again, and she followed him willingly.</p><p>The sky grew gradually darker as the streetlights grew brighter, and Luka guided her to a narrow park on the opposite bank of the Seine. They crossed over a small footbridge on the way there, its decorated railing elegantly crafted, and Marinette ran her painted nails over the metal bars. Luka watched her, as she watched the moon’s reflection on the water’s surface, and they both halted for another moment to take in their surroundings. The lapping of the water, the quiet lull of the city, and the echo of footsteps on the bridge’s planks came to them, and they shared a quiet smile and a chaste kiss before moving on.</p><p>He led her along a stone and cobble pathway, away from the river’s edge, and suddenly, they were surrounded by trees and flowers and the occasional odd sculpture. Marinette slowed her steps whenever they passed by another work of art, her eyes examining it for form and function, but she never made any comments and Luka never rushed her.</p><p><em> “Chanson, </em> over here.”</p><p>She turned her blue eyes away from the piece she was staring at to stare at him instead. Luka felt small, nearly insignificant under her brilliant gaze. But it was a good kind of insignificant, like he was a subject and she was a queen of the sea, and he was willing to serve her however she would ask. His breath caught in his lungs, and he forgot what he was going to say.</p><p>Luka let go of her hand to unstrap his guitar from his back. It had been a heavy, wooden weight on his back for most of the day, yet he had never minded carrying it with him. The comfort and melodic lull of music at his beck and call was worth the hassle. But he had been carrying it with him for other reasons today.</p><p>He climbed up a small hill and sat on a bench in the middle of a cobblestone cul-de-sac. All around him, plants and trees whispered their rumours and secrets, their only audience as Marinette curiously climbed the same slope. The scent of flowers, lilies and peonies and paulownias, embraced them like a curtain, diverting eyes and ears away to give them privacy.</p><p>“Lulu,” she said with a giggle, sitting on his right as he adjusted his acoustic on his thigh, calloused hands settling over the strings. The nylon was soft, but his heart was beating so loudly in his chest, he swore it would set the tempo instead of his tapping foot. “What have you done?”</p><p>His grin came out more brave than he felt. “Something I probably shouldn’t have,” Luka admitted.</p><p>Instead of smiling, Marinette’s face fell into a frown. “Is…” She bit her bottom lip, and Luka reached out to stop her. Yet she leaned away from his thumb before he could touch her, and Luka felt his heart stop. “Is this about what you couldn’t tell me earlier?”</p><p>“I…” Luka felt his bottled up anxiety bubble to the surface, foaming and frothing and popping the cork. There was a rush in his ears, a high pitched whine in the background, and he tried to push it down and swallow it back. But like bile in his mouth, the feeling lingered and left behind a nasty taste. “It is.”</p><p>She cast her gaze down and away. “Is this because… Because we said…”</p><p>“What?” Luka squeaked. “Marinette, <em> no. </em> Never. Whatever is going through your mind, it’s wrong.”</p><p>He could <em> hear </em> her heart changing, twisting, curdling. Fear clogged his voice, and Luka struggled to communicate what he <em> needed </em> to say, and his hands shook something fierce. His left gripped the neck of the guitar so tight, the strings left indents on the pads of his fingers.</p><p>“You don’t regret it…?” she asked him, looking back up at him. He was caught up in the way her eyes shone and her expression conveyed all of her hope, her doubt, her apprehension. Desperate, he shook his head frantically, dyed hair whirling around his head. </p><p>“I would never.”</p><p>Marinette reached forward with a sad smile and arranged his hair back into his normal, fluffed position, tucking strands behind his ears. Luka closed his eyes and leaned into the touch, humming in appreciation as the anxiety simmered down.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice nearly lost to the wind. “I was thinking...that maybe you were having regrets. That I was having regrets. I wasn’t sure, and you weren’t sure, and we didn’t <em> actually </em> say the words, so--”</p><p>“I love you,” Luka blurted out, interrupting her. Marinette went stiff.</p><p>“Y-You do?” she stuttered, her cheeks turning pink.</p><p>“I…” Luka waffled. “Can I show you? Tell you in my way?” </p><p>She seemed as hesitant as him, but eventually, she nodded, slow and firm. Relief flowed through him, and Luka shook out one hand at a time to release the stiffness that had settled into his joints. After that, he spent a few seconds tuning the strings, turning the pegs, and making sure the notes were perfect. The chords echoed around them in their little alcove, the wind in the leaves falling silent as Luka’s hands stilled. The last practice note died out, the whole world held its breath, and Marinette watched Luka as he closed his eyes and felt the rest of him come alive.</p><p>The first measures were soft, careful, leisurely, and just as the song started to gain speed, Luka took a deep breath-- and sang.</p>
<hr/><p>Marinette had never heard him sing before.</p><p>His first few words were halting, hesitant, more of a warble than a lullaby, but his fingers kept moving and his voice kept flowing. Eventually, he hit his stride, his comfort zone, and Marinette was proud of him when he fully relaxed and harmonised with his instrument. His foot tapped out the beat, his fingers danced along the frets and strings, and he strummed with just his fingers - hitting strings awkwardly without the use of a pick, but it only made the song more natural, more <em> real. </em></p><p>The lyrics weren’t what Marinette would’ve expected from him. He sang about a girl with sapphire eyes he had only just met - herself, she realised quickly. He hummed out low notes, reached the end of the bridge, and paused for only a second in voice and chords before launching into the chorus. The song suddenly picked up speed as he opened his eyes, and Marinette could only stare into them as he asked for her permission, for her love, for her tender touch and care. He purred at the end of each line, a deep reverberating sound that rumbled in his chest, and the chorus ended - but the song kept its speed, and he kept tapping his foot, and her chest kept tightening.</p><p>She didn’t know this song, but Marinette recognised it. She moved a little closer to him on the bench, leaning forward, and Luka shifted himself so he could watch her. The wind accompanied his voice by ruffling the leaves, an aria to his melody, a choir to his soliloquy. He told her how she was affecting him, how he was in so much trouble, how he didn’t know what he would do - but he would keep trying, if only because he wanted her happy, no matter the cost. And he reached his peak of expression: a long, wavering note on a vowel, his voice the only sound in the park, for the notes on his guitar had stopped. </p><p>Marinette swallowed and licked her lips, realising that her mouth was dry.</p><p>A repeat of the chorus, played a little faster. Another set of lyrics, asking for her, begging for her, <em> pleading </em> with her. And then, it all slowed down again, like a leaf sinking into water, and Luka’s voice broke on the last line.</p><p>She didn’t wait for him to take his hands off his guitar. She didn’t even wait for the ending chords. Marinette was filled with impatience, and she half-launched herself at him, cupping his cheeks with her hands and pressing her lips to his. Luka grunted at the force of it, and the strings of the guitar belted out an ugly noise as he toppled backwards, but he was able to catch himself before he fell. Not that she would’ve stopped, not with the force that was guiding her to him.</p><p>Luka tried to break the kiss. “Mari--” he managed to get out, before she was kissing him again, her mouth slanting over his. He steadied them both with his left hand, and then used the leverage to politely push her back. “Let me--” But she got her lips back on his, and they both chuckled. “The guitar--”</p><p>She finally pulled away, smirking. “Oh?” Marinette teased, raising a brow at him. “You’re choosing your girlfriend over me?”</p><p>Luka huffed, but he was grinning. “She’s only a little jealous,” he answered, pulling the strap over his head, moving the acoustic out from between them, and placing it gently on the bench beside them. The second it was gone, Marinette was replacing the empty space, and she was more than happy to let his fingers play along her heartstrings instead.</p><p>Between chaste kisses, heated touches, and awkward giggles, Luka told her about the song. He weaved a story of it, how he wrote it the day he met her, all of the words and chords coming to him faster than a wave crashes on a shore. He told her in the way he laid his lips over hers, in how their tongues timidly met, in the clacking of their teeth. She sang her own praises by becoming more comfortable in his lap, mumbling words of encouragement and running her hands through his hair, and eventually--</p><p>“I love you too,” Marinette whispered, pulling away. She could feel his breath on her face, and she felt his smile more than she saw it.</p><p>“Really?”</p><p>“Really, really.”</p><p>“Thank you, <em> chanson.” </em></p><p>His nickname for her held so much more meaning now, and she preened under the attention.</p><p>“No,” Marinette said, kissing the tip of his nose. “Thank <em> you, </em> Lulu.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p><a href="https://discord.gg/mlfanworks">Come and join us on the Miraculous Fanworks Discord server!</a><br/>We are a community of MLB fans who write, read, beta, collab, and even exchange fanfiction and fanart. We run events, Author AMAs, calendar prompts, writing and art sprints, and we even have a book club for fanfics! Come join over 500 amazing, supportive Ladybug and Chat Noir fans today!</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>